Northern Lights
by DarkUnderworld
Summary: Raphael and Catherine's first Christmas together. Takes place during Cardinal Points. A little Christmas one-shot of fluffy humour for you all to enjoy! Rated M for a few swears


**Hey all! Just a little bit of Christmas fluff/humour for you to enjoy this holiday season. As the summary said, this takes place during Cardinal Points while Catherine and Raphael are still hiding out.**

 **I hope you all enjoy!**

 **As always, thank you to Marie Allen who is amazing and beta read this chapter for me, thank you soooo much! XD**

 **A/N Still don't own tmnt :(**

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Northern Lights

 **Raphael** yanked his heavy burden the last few feet; the object of his efforts leaving deep furrows in the snow.

Shivering from the cold, he dropped the end he was carrying, stomping his feet and clapping his hands together a few times to warm them and get some feeling back into his frozen digits.

Beowulf looked over at him, enquiring as to why their progress had been halted and Raphael only snorted.

"Don't look at me like that," he grumbled to the service wolf-dog that had been suddenly brought into his life less than a month ago. "I'm cold-blooded and some of us don't have fur," he complained before he picked up the end he had been carrying and trudging forward until the door of the cabin came into view.

It had been a little over six months since Catherine had kidnapped him and brought him to what could only be described as the middle of nowhere to help him get his shit together. And he had.

For the most part...

Walking up the four steps that led to the wrap-around porch, he stomped his feet and dragged them across the brown, bristled welcome mat to rid them of at least some of the snow that had accumulated on his boots so he wouldn't track it into the house.

Opening the door, Beowulf bounded in before him, whimpering in excitement as his tail wagged in anticipation.

Shaking his head from side to side, he growled, "She ain't home yet."

Apparently sensing that his mistress wasn't home, some of Beowulf's excitement seemed to leave him, but not all of it as Raphael dragged the eight foot pine tree through the doorway spilling snow and needles all across the hardwood floor of the entryway.

Looking back at the mess he was making, he promised to remind himself to clean up the mess before Catherine got home.

It was Christmas Eve and she had left just after lunch to do some last minute grocery shopping before tomorrow and he had decided to go out in search of the perfect Christmas tree to put up in their living room.

Walking back over to the door, he closed it to keep the chill out and took off his boots before he tracked any more snow into the house.

Turning back around, his gaze swept over the living room that still bore the 80's log-cabin style décor that had been present when Catherine had bought the place, furnishings and all. A few new pieces of furniture had been added which clashed badly with the current style, but he truthfully didn't care. He was used to mismatched objects and hand-me-downs, usually pulled from some dumpster when it had been thrown out by someone who no longer wanted whatever it was that was on its last legs.

But the cabin was neat and clean and functional and it had begun to feel more like home the longer they stayed. But it wasn't home, not really.

Home was thousands of miles away, hidden beneath the streets of a metropolitan city and inhabited by his family who -he had no doubt- despised him.

Pushing this bleak thought away, he glanced around the living room and felt a sense of anxiety mixed with gloom fill him as he noted that the room did not contain even an ounce of Christmas cheer or decoration.

Christmas had always been a noisy, boisterous affair in his family and though the Christmases after Master Splinter's death had been more subdued, they were still filled with laughter and cheer and familial bonding.

But this year, Christmas had become the huge elephant in the room, and he and Catherine already had enough of those; they didn't need any more.

Catherine had made no mention of Christmas and he didn't know why. He wasn't sure if it was because this Christmas she was spending it away from her sister or if it was because she hadn't wanted to put any pressure upon him to get her a gift, since it wasn't as if he could just run to the store and buy her something.

Whatever the reason, Raphael felt that he was somehow to blame and because Catherine hadn't said anything, he hadn't mentioned Christmas either.

He didn't think that this would have bothered him overly much except for the fact that Catherine seemed to be more pensive and quiet than usual.

Even though she hated the cold even more than he did, he had noticed that she would sit outside on the porch at night, staring up into the night sky and though he had been tempted on more than one occasion to join her, had had instead left her to her own devices; knowing that it was possible that she had needed a little time to herself.

Catherine was good at letting him know if something was bothering her or if she wanted something, but it was always discussed at her own pace. Bringing something up before she was ready to talk about it only resulted in a frosty silent treatment that he was loathe to experience ever again.

It hadn't been an easy six months, for either of them, and he wanted to show Catherine how grateful he was to her for not giving up on him.

She had pulled him out of the very darkest pit of depression and had eased his self-loathing to a point where he was able to look at her face and the damage he had done to it, and not despise himself.

He regretted his actions and hated that she had borne the brunt of his mental break-down, but her support, her love, her steadfast determination and her refusal to give up on him humbled him and this revelation still had the ability to shake him to his very core.

And because of that, he was never going to let her –for even a moment- ever regret her decision to leave everyone and everything behind for him.

After a few moments of indecision after Catherine had driven into town and with this thought in mind, he had said, 'fuck it,' determined give Catherine the best damn Christmas she'd ever had.

Sure, it wasn't going to be fancy or filled with presents or lights or the people she loved the most, but that was okay because they were damn well going to have a tree.

Resolute in performing this task, he had braved the frigid weather and hauled back the most perfect tree he could find.

But staring at the spot he had chosen earlier to put up the tree, he realized that he hadn't thought about _how_ he was actually going to put the tree _up_ , or what he was going to decorate the tree _with_.

"Fuck," he snarled in displeasure as he frowned at his predicament and his inability to plan ahead.

Letting out a short huff of annoyance from his nostrils, he cudgelled his brain for a solution. He had never had a live tree before, but April had, and he knew the damn things needed water or else it would die and there would be needles all over the place; something he knew because Casey had forgotten to water theirs and he complained about April making him clean up the mess.

Divesting himself of his outerwear, he strode through the living room and down the hall. He opened the door to the basement and emerged a few minutes later with a heavy-duty white gallon bucket, a drill, and four long bolt screws.

Making his way back to the living room, he sat the bucket down on the floor and drilled four holes in the side of the bucket; one on each side near the rim so that when he filled the bucket with water, the holes would be above the water line.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he dragged the tree over to his makeshift stand and upended the tree, sticking the trunk into the bucket and leaning it against the wall until he could screw the bolts into the trunk to hold it in place.

The task of getting the tree straight and upright was more challenging than expected, and after the letting go of the tree and having it nearly topple over, he finally came to the conclusion that the make-shift base was too light.

Filling the bucket with water had solved this problem and after a few tweaks here and there to get the tree perfectly straight, he was proud of his efforts.

"You ain't the only one with some skills, Donny," he mused with a cocky smile on his lips before his pleasure turned to gloom at the thought of his younger genius brother.

He hated that the thought of his brothers caused a pang of hurt and regret to pierce his heart, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.

The two elephants in the room that had preceded the one about Christmas were in regards to his family.

They never spoke about elephant number one: the fact that they were essentially hiding from their family, making no attempt to contact them to let them know that they were alright or to even let them know where they were. This particular elephant did not bother him as much as elephant number two: the betrayal both he and Catherine had perpetrated against Leonardo.

He told himself that he was well able to accept both of these situations, but no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he didn't care what any of his brothers thought of him, the truth was that he did.

Deep down he missed his brothers, but he was terrified of ever seeing any of them again. He couldn't stand the thought of coming face to face with them and seeing the hatred in their eyes for what he had done to their beloved oldest brother.

Added to these feelings of sorrow and regret, was the fact that Catherine had been caught up in the middle of it all and as a result, she too had been torn away from her sister and forced to have no contact with her at all.

This caused a shadow to hang over the happiness he had found with Catherine, like a dark cloud attempting to block out the bright light of the sun.

Even though he knew Catherine had chosen the path they were now, he feared that one day she would regret her choice and grow to hate him because of it.

Pushing away these morose thoughts, he swallowed the lump in his throat and promised himself that he was going to make sure that this Christmas Eve, Catherine would only have cause to smile.

Staring at the tree, he recalled that before they had met April, who had gifted them with a box of old Christmas decorations to decorate their fake Christmas tree with, they had made their ornaments from whatever they could find.

He remembered that for garland, they had tried popcorn one year, but Miley had eaten half of it before they could manage to string it around the tree, and Raphael hadn't had the patience to actually thread the popcorn on the long piece of yarn.

The year after, they had made a garland out of coloured construction paper, cutting out strips and gluing the ends together to create interlocking loops.

With this idea in mind, he walked to Catherine's art room and rummaged around for anything he could find to set his plan in motion.

Only able to find scissors, glue and blank white paper, he walked back to the living room. Snatching up a newspaper from where it lay upon the kindling they used to start fires in the fireplace, he studied it thoughtfully.

He could have used the white paper, but he wanted to have a little colour to the paper garland and the newspaper, though mostly black and white, had coloured pages, and after digging through the box again, he managed to pull out enough of the comic pages to get a decent length garland made.

Sitting himself down on the couch he began his task and found that about half-way through the monotony of creating the garland, he got tired of his fingers getting sticky because of the glue. A quick search through the kitchen drawers revealed a roll of scotch tape, making the process much quicker and less messy.

Completing this task to his satisfaction and using a chair to reach the highest branches, he looped the one end over the topmost branch and circled the tree several times until the garland was wrapped completely around the entire tree.

Though the garland was not spaced out very evenly, he was pleased with the result and taking a step back, admired his handiwork.

Glancing out the window he noticed it was pitch black outside. A quick look at the clock informed him that it was just after 5:00 pm and Raphael had no doubt that Catherine would be home soon.

Hurrying back to Catherine's art room, he came back to the living room a few moments later with a stack of blank white printer paper.

Flopping down again upon the worn leather couch, he used the coffee table's surface to carefully fold the paper into squares before using the scissors to clumsily cut out tiny shapes.

Not having made snowflakes out of paper since he was a child, it had taken him more than a few tries to finally get it right. And though not as fancy as he knew other people were able to make them, he was happy that the final product looked like a snowflake.

Gathering up all of the snowflakes he had made, he placed them upon the tree and realizing he hadn't made enough to go all the way around, only decorated the side he could see.

Pushing the tree into the corner, he stood back and nodded to himself in satisfaction. Sure, the tree was going to be boring, looked like it was decorated by a kid, and there weren't any lights, but whatever, it was the best he could do on such short notice.

The tree out of the way, he piled logs into the fireplace and lit a fire to add a little heat to the cabin as well as a little ambiance.

Diming the lights, he took one final look around the living room before he walked to the kitchen.

He wanted to get a mug of hot chocolate ready for Catherine for when she came home, but he didn't know when she would be back.

Agitated, he began to pace back and forth between the kitchen and the living room wishing he had a present to give her.

Beowulf followed his progress, whimpering slightly as he sensed his agitation.

"I shoulda got her something, right?" he looked over at the wolf-dog who followed him. "Or at least made her somethin'. I betcha I coulda whittled somethin'." It didn't matter that he had never whittled anything before in his entire life, he was pretty sure he would have been able to coax something half-way decent out of a piece of wood. After all, how hard could it be?

Glancing over at the clock on the oven as he made his way back to the kitchen, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest as he contemplated his options.

He might be able to make something really quickly, but what would he make? And what if he ran out of time?

Trepidation filled him as he wondered if at that very moment, Catherine was buying him a gift. He pushed this thought away. She hadn't mentioned ANYTHING about Christmas, presents, trees or decorations. Nothing.

He stared at the tree when he made his way back to the living room again wondering if it was a good idea. He was okay with the tree and with spending Christmas away from his family, all he needed was Catherine, she was his family now, but…

What if the tree he had decorated didn't make Catherine happy, but instead caused her pain at the blatant reminder that this Christmas she was thousands of miles away from her sister, because of him?

"Why the hell does this havta be so fuckin' _hard?_ " he bit out with an angry snarl as indecision filled him. Beowulf whimpered again and placed his head under Raphael's clenched hand, either seeking some kind of comfort or giving it.

Letting out a huff of air from his lips, he knelt on the ground and scratched Beowulf behind the ears. "Just be glad you don't havta worry about women," he grumbled.

Beowulf's big brown eyes looked at him in askance.

"Hey, don't get me wrong, Catherine's great. She's the best, I just…" he let out a slow breath as he stood. "She's dragged me out of some pretty dark places; places I wanted to curl up and wallow in forever because facin' what was outside my private little hell, was terrifyin'. But, Catherine… Even when I hurt her, yelled at her, tried to shut her out, and pushed her away, she never gave up on me. I know she's too damn good for me, but whatever. The problem is…she's not _selfish_ enough. She doesn't demand anythin' from me and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to thank her for everythin' or how to show her how much I love her." He waved a hand at the tree. "That sorry-ass effort over there is my attempt at givin' her a merry Christmas, but…it isn't enough, not by a long shot. And I don't know if seein' that will make her happy, or sad," he explained knowing the wolf-dog couldn't understand a thing he was saying; not only because he was a dog, but also because he had been trained by the Czechoslovakian military and didn't understand English very well.

Suddenly remembering that the entranceway was filled with melting snow and scattered needles, he raced to the kitchen to grab some paper towels.

Finding only one sheet left on the roll, he dug through the cupboards and closets looking for a new roll of paper towels. Finally discovering what he was looking for, he re-entered the living room to find Beowulf buried in the lower branches of the tree.

Swearing under his breath, Raphael slowly made his way towards the wolf-dog, not wanting to scare him and causing the animal to bring the whole tree down.

"If there's a squirrel in there…" he grumbled under his breath as he managed to get his hand around Beowulf's collar.

Beowulf's ears suddenly perked up and his body tensed. Raphael paused and listened. He heard it then, the faint sound of tires crunching over snow.

It wasn't unusual to get the occasional visitor, but the moment Beowulf relaxed and began to wag his tail in anticipatory excitement, he knew that it was Catherine.

"Calm down," he growled when the wolf-dog started to give happy little yips, and attempted to pull himself from the tree, not caring if he had to go straight through it to accomplish this.

Raphael tried to hold the wolf-dog back and chastised himself for not remembering any of the commands that Catherine had taught him.

Generally speaking, he and Beowulf got along fine. The wolf-dog seemed to know when he was wanted and needed and he was able to obey visual commands for sit and stay. But with Beowulf's head firmly planted in the tree, there was no way he could see anything.

Raphael heard the sound of boots upon wooden steps and a moment later, the front door opened and closed.

"Raphael! I… What the-?" Catherine broke off abruptly. " _Raphael_." Her voice was annoyed and he imagined it was the result of sticking her socked foot into a puddle of icy snow water.

Instinctively taking a step back as the result of the tone of her voice, he pulled at Beowulf's collar and causing the tree to sway alarmingly.

Catherine walked into the living room a moment later, an expression of displeasure upon her face until her gaze settled upon the tree.

Grinning bashfully he said, "Uh…Surpri-"

Beowulf, perceiving his beloved mistress, used the tree as a springboard to leap free of both the tree and Raphael's grip on his collar which caused the already unstable tree came crashing down on top of Raphael.

Digging his way through the tree, fury filled him as he broke free of the confining branches.

Still sprawled out upon the floor, the conifer trapping his legs which were now sopping wet from the spilled water from the bucket, he shot a furious glare and a low growl at the oblivious wolf-dog who sat demurely in front of Catherine, a strand of garland hanging from one ear, his tongue lolling in sublime happiness at his mistress' presence.

Raphael's gaze moved from the object of his ire to Catherine's and at her expression, the flames of his anger were swiftly snuffed out of existence and his breath was crushed from his lungs as if he had been punched.

Her hands covered her mouth as if in anguish and her wide, overly bright eyes met his. Shoulders shaking, she took a quick step back followed by another and turned, dashing from the room, the quick flash of tears running down her cheek searing themselves into his dismayed memory.

Dragging himself up and off the floor, he winced as he heard the front door close. Though she hadn't slammed the door, she might as well have for the final and jarring nature of the action.

Narrowing his eyes in anger at the wolf-dog, Beowulf stared up at him with a wounded puppy-dog-eyed expression that would have given Michelangelo a run for his money. Raphael's shoulders slumped in defeat as he rushed to the door, not knowing what to say to undo the wrong he had just committed.

Quickly pulling on his boots and grabbing his coat, he hoped he would be able to stop Catherine before she got in her truck and drove off to who-the-hell-knew-where.

Throwing the door wide, he burst through the doorway and slammed right into Catherine, who had been pacing back and forth on the porch until a two-hundred pound mutant crashed into her.

Twisting mid-air as they flew off the porch, he landed on his carapace, knocking the wind from his lungs as Catherine fell on top of him.

Unlike the first time they had crashed to the bottom of set of stairs, Catherine's glorious green eyes were not filled with annoyance and curiosity, but held unshed tears instead.

She buried her face in his chest and he automatically wrapped his arms around her, feeling like the worst boyfriend ever and wanting to fix what he had done, but not knowing how.

Getting his breath back, he wheezed out, "I'm sorry."

The small apology was not enough, he knew it, but it was the only thing he could do right now.

Later, he would drag the tree out and burn it if he had to.

At his words, Catherine pulled her face from where it was hidden in his coat and looked at him in confusion.

"Raphael-"

"Hey," he interrupted. "No need to explain. I was an ass and I put up the tree and I shoulda known you didn't want anything' to do with Christmas this year and I'm just… sorry."

She stared at him a moment and another tear managed to escape the wetness that brimmed in her eyes to trail forlornly down her delicate alabaster cheek and he felt his heart twist painfully in his chest for bringing her pain. He had promised himself that he would never again hurt her, and though he had done a pretty shitty job up to this point, he was _trying_.

Her lips were suddenly pressed against his and he automatically kissed her back before pulling away and looking at her uncertainly.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she told him softly. "I'm the one who is sorry. I didn't mean to worry you or confuse you," she explained. "I didn't mention anything about Christmas because… I know things haven't been easy lately. I was waiting to see how _you_ were doing. And when you didn't say anything, I thought that maybe you didn't really celebrate Christmas or maybe that this year would be just too hard without…" she paused.

"You mean without everyone 'cause we are basically hidin' out from both our families 'cause none of them would be okay with me bein' with you and oh yeah, that small part where I stole my brother's girlfriend and I know none of my brothers will forgive me for it," he bit out, his voice more caustic than he had intended as he confronted every elephant that had been hanging out in their presence all at once.

Catherine ducked her head down. "Yes, all of that," she agreed softly before again meeting his gaze. "But…we wouldn't be hiding if there was another option. Everyone will come around to us being together, even Elizabeth. Your brothers will forgive you, even Leonardo. Oh, and you didn't steal me," she affirmed.

Raphael only let out a huff of disagreement before asking, "Wait…then if you're cool with Christmas, why'd you run outta the house, and why the hell are you still cryin' if you're supposedly okay?"

"I saw the Christmas tree and the garland and the snowflakes and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," she admitted her eyes shining with tears, her voice a shaky whisper of awe.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed and embarrassed by the praise, especially because he knew the tree was an unplanned slapped-together afterthought that a child could have decorated better, he grumbled, "That's pretty fuckin' sad if that Christmas tree impressed ya."

Catherine ignored his comment. "I just… Christmases after my parents died…" her voice trailed off but he got the impression that few, if any, had been happy occasions. "I was just so…overwhelmed by the fact that you had done all of that for _me_ …" She wiped away a stray tear as she sat up and he followed so that they were both sitting in the snow. "But then Beowulf…and the tree fell…and you and-" she started to chuckle. "All that work and the look on your face and…and Beowulf with the garland on his ear and his expression of absolute innocence…" she let out a full throated laugh full of such uninhibited joy that he could only gaze at her in wonder, struck anew by the knowledge that the love he felt for her when he first met her, was but a pale shadow of what it was now.

"When I saw the tree I wanted to cry I was so touched, and I wanted to laugh when Beowulf pulled the whole thing down and I was laughing and crying at the same time and I just needed a moment because you were so angry and you had obviously worked so hard…"

She looked at him apologetically and he reached up and brushed his thumb across her cold cheek, wiping away a tear produced because of joy and love and he pulled her forward so that he could claim her lips in a searing kiss that was full of all of the love and passion and gratefulness he felt towards her.

"I love you," he whispered as he pulled back and looked at her with contrite seriousness. "But...I didn't get you anything for Christmas," he admitted ashamedly.

Catherine grinned at this. "Raphael, you've already given me the best gift of all-"

"Don't say 'you,'" he interrupted pleadingly because not only was it super cheesy and cliché, but it made him feel even more unworthy of her than he already did. He was under no misapprehensions, he was _no_ prize, and he sure as hell was not gift-worthy, even on his good days.

Catherine looked at him for a moment, her expression completely serious as she pulled him closer by grabbing the front of his jacket. "You've gifted me with your trust, your love and your heart," she replied. "I couldn't ask for anything more." She smiled then. " _And_ a Christmas tree."

Raphael pulled back, his throat tight as he tried to swallow down the lump that had suddenly formed at her words and… _Fuck, no_. He was not going to get all teary-eyed and he sure as hell was _NOT_ going to cry.

He blinked rapidly, and swallowing down that huge-ass lump that seemed to have grown bigger, growled, "There _was_ a tree."

Catherine chuckled. "We'll just pick it up off the floor, it will be fine," she said waving away his sudden surly mood. "And if it makes you feel better, I didn't get you anything for Christmas either."

He let out a sigh of relief.

"But, I did have something I wanted to show you," she admitted.

"Yeah?" he purred suggestively.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Look," she said as she pointed somewhere over his shoulder.

Turning around and following the direction of her arm, he felt his eyes widen as a thick green ribbon danced across the star-filled sky.

"It hasn't been cold enough the last few days," she told him softly. "But tonight…."

"Wait. That's why you've been hangin' outside so much?" he asked her incredulously.

"Well," she began. "I have always loved watching the Northern Lights, even though here they are only green with a hint of gold -if you are lucky- but I still find them beautiful. But I was also thinking about if I should bring up the whole Christmas-thing since you were acting a little…off."

Standing and helping Catherine up out of the snow, he continued to gaze at the sky in wonder, never having seen the Northern Lights in person before.

"I'm sorry I worried you," he apologized softly as he glanced over at her. "But you know what?" She shot him an inquiring glance. "It's okay you didn't get me anything, because all I want for Christmas, is you,'" he said, his voice dripping with cheesy inflection, even though he meant every word of what he said.

The snowball hit him right in the face.

In the process of wiping away the wet melting snow, intent on immediate retribution, his mind was turned more pleasantly to the taste of Catherine's lips as she pressed them against his.

"Mariah Carey is completely right," Catherine murmured as she danced away, "but that doesn't make it any less cheesy," she said as she dodged the snowball he quickly threw at her.

"This coming from you and the whole 'the best gift-'" he ducked as another snowball was aimed at his head, but was unable to avoid her second attempt as it struck him in the shoulder.

He grinned at her happily and affirming by the wide smile on her face that she hadn't taken offence to his words, called a truce and said, "Merry Christmas, Catherine."

"Merry Christmas, Raphael," she said as she beamed at him happily.

Catherine looked over her shoulder at the still open doorway. "Come on," she said as she walked over to him and pulled at his arm, turning to head back to the cabin.

No.

They were heading back to their home.

Home used to be in a sewer where he had lived with his brothers, but now… Now home was with Catherine, wherever she was. And this small cabin in the middle of nowhere was exactly where he wanted to be.

"We need to get dry; especially you. And you have a mess to clean up," she said with a hint of mirth in her voice.

"What!?" he yelped as he looked at her.

"I'll help," she offered with a smile. "And I think there is even a box of old Christmas decorations and lights in the garage."

"Really?" he wondered.

"Yes. Let's decorate our first Christmas tree together." She grinned at him as they reached the top of the steps where Beowulf was waiting for them on the porch, a contrite look upon his canine face.

Reaching out, he scratched the wolf-dog behind the ears and Catherine joined in. "You're forgiven," he murmured as he looked over at Catherine.

Running quickly inside and changing out of his wet pants, he made his way back outside.

"Come on, Bae" he said to the wolf-dog. "Let's go find some Christmas stuff," he said as he motioned for the wolf-dog to follow him, which Beowulf did gladly.

Walking a few paces towards the garage, he looked over at the Northern Lights again and smiled, before continuing towards the garage, whistling, ' _All I want for Christmas is You.'_

The bittersweet emotion that had settled in his heart at it being his first Christmas without his family and the first one with Catherine was still present, but the feeling was tempered by the joy he felt at being with the woman he loved and he could admit that his heart felt lighter than it had in months.

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 **I hope everyone enjoyed! Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and Happy New Year everyone! XD**


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